


Shelter Within

by Nightmist



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Scion Dads, Smut, oops (thanks Microsoft Works!), soft, trapped by bad weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24743521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmist/pseuds/Nightmist
Summary: Urianger and Thancred get caught in a windstorm in Amh Areng and have to... entertain themselves.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	Shelter Within

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Deletable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deletable/gifts).



> For my darling friend. ♥ Some soft smutty Scion Dads.

Mayhap he has learned to read the patterns of the unseen stars, but the weather? The weather is another matter entirely. In full truth, Urianger has always preferred to avoid the entire concept when he can; in Ul'dah, he preferred the cool darkness of the below ground rooms of the Waking Sands and here in Norvrandt he has largely learned that he never needs to pay attention. After all. It will be bright. It is always bright. Forever bright.

Admitting that he forgot it can still be windy, particularly dangerous in the deserts of Amh Araeng, is a miscalculation that will have to be remembered for future equations. The tome is successfully retrieved, but he and Thancred have emerged into a world gone bright and howling. The sand scours over his skin, exposed in astrologian's robes, and he dearly misses his old goggles as he tries to shade his eyes.

"I think that our camp was to the west. If we can find the west." Thancred is shrugging out of his heavy duster and the reason is unclear until he reaches up, starting to drape it over the taller man's shoulders. "Come on. I can't have you getting scraped raw by sand before we get home." He squints at their surroundings, then gives a slight cant of head. "This way, I think." 

Urianger gazes at the swells of sands beneath the whipping winds and shrugs. The choice seems reasonably correct to him, after all, and standing out in the midst of this would be an ill-tided choice no matter the reason. So they walk and stumble through the wilds, taking what opportunities to use the stones and natural shelters that they can. It is slow going and the weather — such as it is — is unrelenting.

Thancred grabs his arm suddenly, pulling him into a crevice in the cliff face they have been following. No, not a crevice; a cavern, if a small one, and miraculously empty of anything sizable enough to be a concern to them, although several small lizards nervously skitter up the walls and into even smaller cracks. "Urianger. We can't keep going in that, we're not protected enough."

He blinks slowly, but must admit, every ilm of exposed skin burns and is chapped from wind and sands, and Thancred looks little better. For that matter… Urianger impulsively reaches out, starting to use his fingers to brush sand out of Thancred's shock of now rather buff-tinged silvery hair. There is a truly astounding amount, which means his own is like to be equally bad.

His shorter companion's shoulders slumps and he sighs. "Well. Guess we have to wait, then. Hope you're patient."

With a look at their surroundings and the unusual solitude, especially compared to his home in Il Mheg, Urianger finds a surprising boldness in his voice, "Mayhap there be ways to keep entertained, mine desert prince?" The last bit of terminology is an old, private endearment and as it ever has, it draws the faintest flush of color to Thancred's cheeks, so usually so self-assured.

His eyes are met and he knows instantly by the slight downward incline of the muscular hyur's head, by his slightly parted lips, that his meaning is well kent. Removing his hand from Thancred's hair, he lightly strokes fingertips along his jaw, murmuring quietly, "Thou gave of thine own protections to improve mine, didst thou not? 'Tis very much the behavior of a gentleman, if not a prince." There is some old bitter shard in Thancred, some secret regret or questioning to his orphan heritage, that such teasing has always gotten under his skin in a way he allows only of those he trusts most.

"I know you're just trying to get me to show you how ungentlemanly I am." Thancred mutters, yanking the leather duster off his shoulders and tossing it to puddle at his feet. Urianger cannot help but smile, slight and pleased, seeing his success. "And yes, damn it, you're succeeding. Only you, Urianger. Only you." The gunbreaker twists hands into the dark fabric of his gown and pulls him forward, lips crashing into his, rough and fond all at once.

Secure here as he is with no one else, their goals and deepest dedications, hidden stars aligned, Urianger sighs in soft contentment, lets his tongue delve for secrets in the taste of Thancred's mouth. Oh, for all he moved first, he melts for it, moaning quietly, battle-scarred fingers slowly relaxing in their grip, finding the edges of silken fabric and dipping under them, brushing over the far less marred skin of scholastic elezen make. No matter the winds beyond, no matter the reptile eyes watching them, un-understanding, his body stirs, cock starting to stiffen in the tight confines of the close-fitting, dark smalls beneath his astrologian's gear.

His own hands rub and dig into Thancred's neck muscles, soothing and encouraging all at once, using the dim light and one cracked eye to locate the tattoo of the Circle of Knowing on his neck, tracing it with a reverent fondness, the sigil of shared history and meaning. They both groan quietly, and impatient hands are fumbling at his belt, followed by a broken kiss and cursing. "You look better in this, you know, but it's a fucking lot harder to get unclasped then your old belt ever was." He has to help, as is oft the case, but as soon as the belt falls free, the dark fabric covering him is eagerly pulled overhead.

Quick to drop to his knees, Thancred mists a hot breath through the ill-used concealment of his straining smalls, tracing the outline a moment later where Urianger's erection creates a tent in the taut fabric. "Definitely like these a lot better." His musing ends in him dragging his tongue in a long lick over the fabric, soaking it and better outlining the shape of the prick beneath. Leaning back, the elezen lets the stone wall brace his shoulders, settles fingers into still sand-strewn hair once more.

A trigger-callused thumb grazes over his thigh as Thancred drags the black silk down and bares him, all but diving back in to take Urianger in his mouth. For all his flirtiness on the surface, he has never been less than fascinated and dedicated with bringing pleasure to his partner. That hand comes back up, curling over a hipbone for support and stroking absently as the gunbreaker eagerly presses into further, tongue lapping in long drags as he works to take more and more into his mouth.

Sighing in soft contentedness, Urianger murmurs soft encouragements, no need to wonder at his language here; gasps of your lover's name are always appropriate after all. Thancred is doing quite lovely things with swipes of wet heat and tongue over and around the head of him, flicking at the ridge and using — oh heavens — just the barest scrape of gentle teeth, sending sharp bolts of pleasure running from the root of him, up and out like the radiating branches of a lightning strike. 

As it coils and builds, twisting in a whirlpool spiral in his belly, the astrologian lets his head fall back, closing his eyes, grey hair catching against the stone as he rocks his hips, not too much, still letting Thancred enjoy his act of service. When there's an encouraging groan around him, vibrating lips and tongue, he gasps sharp, moves harder, and it draws more sounds, til between them, they make a symphony, breathless and lustful, echoing off the stone walls of their tiny refuge.

A final jolt tips the balance as a tongue tip eagerly probes at the slit at the tip of his cock, seeking out the taste of him. Who is he to be to resist such a desire, such a demand, and Urianger grips tighter, gasping out Thancred's name as he presses just a bit deeper, the stiff length of him pulsing to spend warm jets of seed into the other man's mouth. It's welcomed with an almost purring contentment, and then the hyur finally pulls off, it's to lick his lips clean. For a few moments, he watches as Urianger pants in aftermath, face flushed, looking incredibly smug and self-pleased.

Then, gently, he pulls the silk undergarment back into place and stands, going to retrieve Urianger's gown and gently shaking it out, trying to get the sand out of it, at least in part. When he brings it back, the elezen shakes his head and pulls the other in for a kiss, the taste of himself and sand and heat on the hyur's lips. "My most truest gratitude, my desert prince. Do mine ears deceive me, or are the winds given over to fairer skies?" 

He shrugs back into his garb as Thancred moves to the opening, squinting out into the brilliance. "It's letting up enough that I can see the way. I think I can find our real camp, now. When we get back…" He looks back over his shoulder, grinning. "Maybe you can repay me."

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, all hail the [Book Club](https://discord.gg/2w2gtaN) which is _definitely not something I say just because it's run by the hypnotoad_. Please, join us.


End file.
